


Homecoming

by GreyofSonshine



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gen, Genders and Sexualities that Differ from Canon but Fuck You I Can Do What I Want, Mentions of Suicide, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Possession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Robots, Slight Dubious Consent but Nothing Icky, Specific things will be warned in chapter notes, Trans Characters, non-binary characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9569318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyofSonshine/pseuds/GreyofSonshine
Summary: In another universe, Red vs Blue has consistent writing and EMPs act according to rules the universe has already laid out.In another universe, Church doesn't die in an unnecessary, ill researched plot device.In another universe, Alpha comes home.





	1. not a very good plan to begin with, really

**Author's Note:**

> did u know rvbs writing doesn't make sense........... what a shocker. im so shocked
> 
> hopefully i can actually write this dumb thing instead of abandoning it after like 2 chapters.  
> probly not.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An emp goes off and Church dies, again. Except, not really, _again_ , and now he has to deal with the fact that he was never dead to begin with.

"You know, I can see why you didn't want anyone else in your head. Got some pretty heavy stuff going on there. I think you need to talk to a professional."

Here they were. Both about a minute away from dying. And Church was gonna be snarking him till the very end. It seemed fitting, from what he'd been through, from what he knew about Church from memories and experience.

"That's too bad. I just lost my job, and we have great mental health coverage." And, well, it's not like Wash wasn't a hell of a snarky bastard too.

"How much time do you need?"

"Whatever can you get me." It hit Wash then that he wasn't sure that Church really _knew_ what was going to happen, that they were both about to die. "When the E.M.P. goes off-"

"When it goes off, I'll be fine. It only affects computers, remember? And _I_ am a motherfucking ghost!"

Well, there was something to be said for dedication. He felt Church leave his mind, saw him enter the Meta. The Counselor and the Director were yelling things at him over the intercom, but he ignored them. It's not like it would matter in a second, anyway. He punched the button- probably more aggressive than he needed to, but fuck it, this was it.

"Thank you, failsafe initiated. Activating emp."

" _Emp_ _?_ You have gotta be fucking kidding me."

Wash expected a bigger explosion or something, but really it was just a kind of ringing. Everything shut off around him. He hadn't realized how loud the computers were until it was completely silent. His helmet accommodated for the darkness, the only light in the room coming off the shield generators on their suits. The E.M.P. (fuck you, he wasn't saying emp) didn't affect armor, then.

The pain in his stomach was getting impossible to ignore. He sat on the floor, leaning his back against the console. No one had come in yet. The Meta was just standing there, stock still. Geez. He couldn't imagine what was happening in its mind right now. He didn't want to.

Not that he would have much time to. He'd had worse injuries than this before, much worse, but he had had immediate medical attention. At the very least, he'd had someone else there to help patch him up. His medical supplies were exhausted, and, honestly, so was he. He could only hope there was some good karma left for him that he would bleed out before someone could find him and-

The Meta jerked awake. Well, maybe karma wasn't jack shit and it would kill him right here. Maybe he would finally be put out of his misery. Or maybe Wash was still that naive wide-eyed little kid, or maybe he was going delirious from blood loss, but he couldn't stop himself from saying, "Maine?"

But it wasn't Maine's voice that responded, "Fuck."

......

"Church?"

"That didn't work."

 

_"I am a motherfucking ghost!"_

Church knew he wasn't a ghost. He had never been a ghost, except for, maybe, in a figurative sense. He wouldn't give Wash that satisfaction, though. He also knew that this was it. And, ha, how many times had he thought, had he _known_ this was it?

And yet, this was it. He was seconds away from entering a mind he would never leave, from being ripped apart- having his. code? ripped apart? He wasn't really sure how this worked, actually.

He had to do this. He couldn't ignore it any longer. From what Epsilon showed him, from what he picked up in Wash's mind, this was about him. It was all because of him. ~~And~~ ~~ _her_~~ ~~, but, well, she was here too~~. He had to put this shitty fucking project out of its misery. And, hopefully, put himself and a couple other AI out their misery too.

He entered the Meta.

Holy shit it was _fucking_ _ **loud**_.

He heard a hundred voices screaming for him, for _Alpha._ He felt hands pulling at him, but they weren't hands, and he didn't feel. He was suffocating, and he couldn't breathe. He didn't have the physical capability to breathe.

He heard and saw and tasted and smelled a thousand things and none of it was real, and he wasn't real, but he needed it to _STOP_.

And, for a second, it did. His body seemed to obey him and his mind quieted down. A second later, things picked up again, a little subdued.

It was still too hectic, still too loud. But now he had a semblance of control.

 _When was this going to end,_ he thought to himself, _when was Wash going to end it?_

And he suddenly knew the answer: never. EMPs destroy all electrical equipment in their radius; they do not, however, destroy any data contained within said equipment. All of us AI are stored in something akin to a flash drive ( _yes, not really, but it's what he'll understand_ ), so the EMP would not affect us. However, Freelancer has a failsafe: should any of the computers be destroyed, they will also destroy all data contained within them. Every AI housed in this facility was destroyed.

With the exception of nine.

EMPs do not affect Mjonlir suits.

Church was suddenly aware he was in a suit of armor. He was in a _body_ that was in a suit of armor. A body that seemed to be a part of the suit of armor, with all its modifications and enhancements. A body that was breaking down bad.

A body that was actually pretty fucking hungry.

He continued to notice things about his body (it was large), and about the room (it was dark), and about what he noticed. His brain went a mile a minute and he couldn't hope to stop it.

He noticed Wash crumpled over on the ground. Blood pooled around him. He attempted towards him, to help, probably, but he just kind of jerked. Wash looked up at Church with wide eyes- well, with his helmet visor, but Church could tell there were wide eyes underneath it-- and croaked out a weak, "Maine?"

"Fuck," he responded before he could stop himself, because it was getting loud again and he really could not deal with this shit.

Wash stared at him for a second, then said an incredulous, "Church?"

And Church could think of a million different responses, but really, there was only one thing to say.

"That didn't work."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a kind of.. warning? i guess? church has something thats like DID but he's a robot and ppl with did cant, like, actually split their alters off into separate beings so it's not going to be 100% accurate on the depiction of did here. i'll do the best i can but this is like. fantasy coding so some things wont line up with rl.   
> lmk if i fuck anything up too bad tho.


	2. how not to deal with intrusive thoughts 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Church has to make some decisions. He's never been very good at that.

"You know, I'm getting sick of the amount of times I've had to accept my fucking death only to come out the other side."

Wash made a small agreeable noise from the seat next to him.

"Seriously, dude," Church said as he connected two wires under the seat and the warthog roared to life beneath him. So, his new brain buddies knew how to hot-wire a car. Convenient. "I'm not, _suicidal_ or anything, but sometimes I just want the end to be the fucking end."

Wash was quiet as he backed up. Some people turned towards them as they drove out, but no one made a move to stop them. He thought escape would have been more difficult; with no one watching, the cannon fodder here didn't seem keen on throwing themselves into the fire.

"Sounds suicidal," Wash finally spoke.

"Fuck you, no it's not. I'm just sick of it."

"Sick of living. That's suicidal."

"Fuck off. You're suicidal."

"No, 'm not. Probably should"

Church didn't have a response to that, and Wash sounded tired as all hell, so he decided to let him pass out and just drove.

He wasn't sure where he was going, except for away. A few places came to mind, immediately. There were a couple freelancer warehouses around, not far from here, probably not a lot of guards. There would be medical supplies, rations. He could heal himself up, get charged and full. And Wash too, obviously. Wash needed medicine, and obviously he would have to give him that medicine. Obviously, because he wanted Wash to live. Obviously.

He could go to the guys. He wasn't sure where they were, but he was sure he could find them easily. Not much time had passed since when Wash sent them off. They were probably standing around a broken warthog, bickering about some stupid bullshit— no, he did not want to go back to the reds.

The blues, then? Definitely not Caboose. He felt silly for even considering it. Tucker was doing some alien shit, way too far for Church to get to. And really, what the fuck did Tucker ever do for him? Just stand around and bitch all the time? Why would he want to have to deal with that again?

The guys were out of his hair. (He realized the body he was in didn't have hair. That was beside the point). He finally got rid of them, for now. He wasn't going back.

He could get as far away as possible. Just fucking _leave_. Hijack a ship, get off planet. He could wire money to himself, buy a house on some far, barely inhabited world. He could get away from all this bullshit.

But he had things to do. Epsilon was still in Freelancer's hands. Epsilon had his memories. Never before had he been so determined to remember to know exactly what had happened to him. Epsilon was a part of him that was ripped away and he needed to get Epsilon **back**.

Not now, then. Not yet.

He could try to find the Director.

A man he didn't know, but one who's image was now filling his mind with thoughts of hatred and rage. He had never before felt so violent, felt such a strong desire to torture and kill. It was all way too loud, and way too _much._ Church tended to not deal with things that were Too Much for him, so, with some difficulty, he let that train of thought go.

There were abandoned Red and Blue bases not 10 miles away. The inhabitants had all killed each other, or, perhaps, themselves, and no troops had ever been sent to replace them. There was bound to be some leftover supplies. It would be a good place to rest and recharge. It would be a good place to hide out without fear of intervention. It would be a good place to plan for their next move.

It would be a good place to start.

* * *

 

Wash was dying on the floor next to him. He was almost startled by this realization, as if the information had been shoved into the forefront of his mind without his permission. It wasn't a new thought, but it was yet another that was not his own.

The blue base they holed up in had little medical supplies. He did, of course, ransack the red base, but it's not like he was going to stay there because _fuck those guys_. The Reds didn't have much either. Still, he had fixed up his own body the best that he could and now his attention had to be on Wash.

He could kill Wash. There was nothing anyone could do to stop him. He didn't want to kill Wash, but he could. He was acutely aware of the fact that he _could_. He could think of a hundred different ways he could murder Wash with the things he had on hand, and it was starting to scare him. Once again, he tried to not deal with the things that were too much for him, but they were too loud this time and he couldn't get them to shut up.

A voice, that sounded like his own but he knew was not his own, came from inside his head. Agent Washington was useless to him. There would be little benefit to keeping him alive. And he didn't need anyone, no one but himself. No one but all of him.

But he liked Wash. (a new voice). Wash was always nice to him. To them. No. (and another). Wash was an asshole. He was crazy and manipulative. Wash was naive. (more, speaking all at once). He was kind and funny and cruel and murderous and he was a traitor. He would betray Church in a second, it was better to kill him now. He was cute. He had soft eyes and pudgy cheeks and he smiled with all his teeth. He would skateboard down the hall and he would crash but he was diligent. He refused to give up and he refused to die and he was d e a d. Agent Washington had died. It was his fault people kept dying. He was useless and everyone he cared about was dead and it was _his fault and IT WAS HIS FAULT_ _ **AND IT WAS HIS**_ _—_

STOP.

Once again his brain quieted down on his command. The screaming dulled into a constant white noise. Preferable. He couldn't pick out any specific words from the noise, but he could feel them. Emotions, speaking to him in ways he couldn't possibly understand or explain.

Wash was lying on the floor next to him, bleeding out. He wouldn't survive if Church left him there.

Emotions flooded his thoughts

Church couldn't deal with this.

He had decisions to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyways uhhhhh I know this chapter kinda seems like “mentally ill people are crazy and violent” but im a mentally ill person who is crazy nd has violent thoughts so??? I dont have did so im writing the fragments as intrusive thoughts since I got fucking tons a those. If you have did and hate the way im writing this lmk cause I can only write from my own experiences with ocd and thats how a lot of this will go


	3. not the worst way hes ever woken up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash wakes up in a place he doesn't recognize with injuries he doesn't know how he got.

Wash woke up to a very sore chest.

It was better than what he was expecting, he supposed, which was to have not woken up at all.

But still.

Breathing in was difficult, and when he tried to sit up he immediately fell back down due to the sharp pain that came with it. Okay, then, take it slow this time. He rose, slowly, ignoring the pains that shot through his body, and examined himself. There were bandages wrapped tightly around his chest, woven in a pattern that Wash recognized as being used to treat a broken rib. All right, broken ribs, he could heal from- wait. Broken ribs? He checked lower down his and sure enough, there was the bandage covering the gunshot wound he had received from the Meta. So how did-

The Meta.

Wash began to panic, slightly. Addressing his wounds was important, but figuring out where the hell he was was a more pressing matter. He took in his surroundings. Gray walls with lights and monitors, two beds, the one he wasn't on an absolute mess of medical supplies and equipment. There were some shelves and racks, a couple of chairs, a small sink and counter, and the door. It wasn't a place Wash had been, but he'd certainly been to many like it. A medic bay at a planetside Freelancer facility. Wash's panic rose, slightly. Was he back in Freelancer's hands? No, this was far too unprofessional. There were medical supplies everywhere, the chairs were toppled over, his undersuit had been hastily cut off and he was still wearing the bottom half of his armor. Plus, there was no way he'd have been left alone this long.

Just as he thought that, the door slid open.

The man who entered looked so familiar, but not like someone he knew- like a relative of an old friend or a stranger you hug on the street before realizing they were not the person you thought they were. He had white hair and bright green eyes and skin that look like it was made of ceramic. He grinned when he made eye contact with Wash. 

"Good!" He said, "you're awake! Not. that I didn't think you would wake up, I mean, why, why wouldn't you wake up, obviously you, uh. You're fine. It’s fine!” A moment of uncomfortable silence passed. “So! How you feeling?"

Wash tried to piece together what he remembered to make sense of the situation and came up short. "Church?”

"Yeah. Yes, I’m Church." Church walked up to him and attempted to put a hand on his forehead but Wash jerked away, only to freeze because of the pain. "Don't do that! You're gonna hurt yourself more!" Church moved his hands down towards Wash's chest, then stopped and awkwardly hovered over his bandages. 

Wash pushed him away. "What's going on? Where are we?" 

"It's fine, we're fine, we're in a Freelancer base."

"What!?"

"Abandoned! Freelancer base." Church made to move his hands towards Wash's chest again, but upon seeing Wash's expression put his hands down and took a step back. "It's fine."

"What happened?"

"What do you mean what happened? You were there."

"I passed out from blood loss."

"Well, yeah, but..." Church looked away uncomfortably. "Nothing. Nothing happened between then and now, I just brought you here and- what? No, shut up."

"I didn't say anything"

"I know, I wasn't," Church gathered himself and put out his hands. "Look. You're fine. You just got a little banged up in your fight with the Meta–"

The Meta. 

"–So I had to bring you somewhere with a medical facility to make sure you didn't die. Which I did, by the way, because I'm a genius, and you're welc–"

"Shut up. What happened with the Meta"

Church's cocky expression fell almost immediately. "Oh, that? That's," he waved his hand, "Dealt with."

"Dealt with?"

"Yeah, it's, y'know, it's–"

"Fine?"

Church looked at him nervously. "Yes. It's fine. Everything, everything's fine."

...

"You're the Meta."

"What? No! No, I'm not, look, everything is,"

" _Don't say it's fine!_ " Wash ignored Church's indignant 'well it is!' and tried to get up again. He winced at the pain, but he kept going. 

"Stop, stop, just," Church started to leave, "don't get up, wait one second all right?" He left the room. Wash stopped for a second, then continued getting out of his cot. He was fully standing by the time Church reentered. "You don't know what stop means, do you?" Church said with a sigh. 

"Haven't learned yet." 

"Jesus, all you Freelancers are the same. Here, take this." Church had come in with a full set of Mark VI armor, except,

"That's blue."

"Uh, yeah. That's the only color they have here. But look! I put your cute yellow accents on it. I even painted the stripe on the helmet, see?" Church pointed at the top of the helmet, where, indeed, a yellow stripe was neatly painted across the top. 

"Where is  _my_  armor"

“It got, uh. A little too messed up to wear.”

“ _How_.”

“Look.” Church refused to look Wash directly in the eye. “We don’t need to stand here and argue about who tried to kill who,”

“You tried to kill me?”

“You! Did it first!” Church gestured wildly as he spoke, and Wash looked around for some sort of weapon. “This has all been very confusing, okay! I find out I'm a robot, and that I was tortured, and that I'm a bunch of people but now I'm not anymore? And then I'm also some asshole, and then I'm _inside_ this _other_ guy, and then _everyone_ is always _yelling_ and I don't why we can't just be quiet for like, a _minute_!” There were no guns in the room, but some surgical supplies that may work. Wash was in no position for hand to hand though, so they'd have to be thrown. "Stop looking for weapons!"

"No."

"Oh my god." Church started pushing the armor at Wash. "At least put this on, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep walking around without support." 

Wash grumbled as he grabbed the armor, exasperated about the situation he was in. He looked at the blue coloring (gross) and yellow accents and something Church said hit him. "Wait. Cute?"

"What?" Church stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, “Oh,” then immediately turned around and left the room. 

Well. At least he got him to leave. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup bipches its been like a year but im BACK, lets see how long it lasts lmfao  
> ive found the more things i have to do the more likely i am to do SOMETHING so check out my other alpha lives fic... [this time hes bad](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14918126/chapters/34557341)


End file.
